“Is this not working for you, Regina?”
Emma’s voice from behind my chair brings me back to the present again. Her hands are warm on my shoulders, and I lean my head back on my chair to glance up at her. She wants to help so badly, but disappointment shines in her eyes, dulling their green to a sickly algae color.
“Normally it would, you know that, Emma.”
Gesturing to the paperwork on my desk, I growl softly. “Your fucking mother has made a royal mess of things, pun entirely intended.”